Gifted
by best with breadsticks
Summary: ONESHOT Renesmee is attempting to play a tune on the piano, but is failing. Edward hears and decides to intervene. Maybe Renesmee isn't a pianist after all.


Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

Author's Note: Just a father/daughter moment for fun…

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Renesmee stared blankly at the keys of the piano. Black, white, white, black, black, white, white, black… The colors repeated over and over in her line of sight. Again and again they duplicate, causing a groan to penetrate her lips.

The sea of black and white stretched as far as she could see. She knew there was indeed an end to the madness of blah color, but she couldn't see it.

She moved her hands up to the keyboard, lining them up with the appropriate keys. Her brow furrowed as she attempted to reach her pinky finger out to its correct position, but the length was too far. Her five-year-old size hand was just too tiny. In turn, she settled for having her finger just barely brushing the side of the key.

Pressing down with her thumb on middle C, she began to play a tune. Poorly.

"Ugh." She grumbled under breath in her sweet, innocent tone, repositioning her fingers once she finished airing her frustration. This was pointless. She hadn't received the piano-playing gene from her father. Curse the half of her that was her mother.

She started the melody once more. The harmonies drifted through the air of the Cullen home reaching the ears of one, Renesmee's piano talented father, Edward.

He stood behind her, watching as she stroked the wrong keys on the piano. His eyes never left her as she stumbled through the song, trying to make her mistakes sound intentional.

Renesmee gritted her teeth together at the sound coming from the instrument. She was a failure. She sighed, slamming her forehead full-force into the keys below. The reaction of the piano was a vibration and a chorus of reverberating notes.

Edward moved silently over to the open edge of the piano bench where his daughter was sitting. He reached down to place his hands on the keys, imagining the tune he'd play in his mind.

Renesmee hardly noticed her father's presence- due mostly to her face being pressed against the keyboard and her lack of care at the time of his arrival.

Edward's digits danced along the ivories strips of the piano. Carefully and precisely striking each and every key at the exact moment in his imaginary anthem.

The chords were soft with growing intensity with every passing measure. Though there was no written music for Renesmee to follow along with, she found herself able to predict the next note in the melody as her father played.

A memory surfaced in Renesmee's mind. She had heard this song before, when she was smaller. But she didn't remember it ever being played to her. No, she had heard it hummed to her.

Her father, that's who hummed her this familiar tune.

She turned her face towards him, her head still lying on the keyboard. "Daddy?" Her charming, lovable voice broke Edward's concentration.

"Yes, Nessie." He looked over at her resting her head.

"Why are you playing that song?" She asked, completely curious on why in the world he'd bring up that specific lullaby at this moment.

A smirk crossed Edward's face. "I wrote that for you some time ago. To comfort you when you needed it." He ran his fingers through her hair, tangling them in her springing ringlets. "You sounded like you could use it."

"Daddy, surely you are not implying that I'm terrible at this and need comforting to ease my frustration." Her eyes were soft as she gazed at her father. The love and adoration she had always had for him radiated from them.

"Of course not." He laughed, removing his hand from her hair. Almost instinctively, his hand crept its way back into position on the piano. "I just thought that someone in this house could use comforting. So I took over the piano. Sorry, sweetheart."

She shook her head, leaning back into a straight-backed sitting situation. Her curls bounced with each movement of her body. Edward looked over towards her, giving her a peaceful glance that asked if he could continue. She motioned with both her head and her hand.

"Please do." A hint of uncaring in her voice. He had already shown her up.

Her father nodded and continued to create the charming and tender melody from the instrument.

Renesmee rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she listened to his song. He would always be a better pianist than her; she just didn't have his talent.

Not that it mattered, she enjoyed just listening; it was peaceful. She didn't need to the best at everything, she just was. That was except for this.

Images filled her mind. Colors and shapes blended and blurred into a spattered mess in her imagination. There wasn't a specific picture forming, but there was something, something oddly beautiful. Even though it was far from being identifiable as a definite object.

The music halted at the same moment as Renesmee's vision. Edward took note of his daughter's half-sleeping form, just waiting to drift completely.

"Daddy, why did you stop?" The question took Edward nearly off guard. Though he knew her to be somewhat awake, he wasn't expecting a voiced question from her.

A smirk moved across his face, once he passed the bit of shock. "Oh, sorry. Do you want me to go on?"

Renesmee shrugged, head still against his stone shoulder. "No, that's okay. I've decided I don't really like the piano anyway. So you don't have to waste your time showing me how well you play it…I've decided to take up badminton." She twisted a ringlet around her pointer finger, uninterested.

"Are you sure?" He raised an eyebrow at her. It wasn't like her to just give up at something. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She jumped down from the bench and ran out into the yard with a slight smile and giggle on her lips. Edward knew she was up to something.

Then it hit him. If she didn't have his talent for playing the piano, then she must have Bella's. That meant she could potentially have Bella's old, human badminton playing skill too.

Which meant every human- or supernatural being for that matter- in a ten-mile radius was in danger of flying rackets.

"Renesmee!" Edward pushed himself up from the piano bench, only to hear a loud shattering in the next room.

Quickly searching for a thought to calm the nerves that had just been shaken by the sound, Edward found Emmett's view of the event. And to Edward's relief, it was only the window in the living room and his older brother's head that had felt the impact of Renesmee's flying racket.

"Oops." Edward heard Renesmee gasp. "Sorry, Uncle Emmett."

Edward shook his head and rolled his eyes. Like mother like daughter.


End file.
